I'll Keep You Safe
by GloriousBlackout
Summary: Much as she hated it, Beth had gotten used to the possibility of Chris getting hurt on their mission. Space travel was dangerous after all, she accepted that. That didn't mean she was prepared for him to get hurt back home.


**A/N - I'm in love with these two so here I am writing about them when I should be studying. Ah well. As always, I hope you enjoy this and any feedback is appreciated :)**

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She can do this. She knows that she's strong enough; is more familiar than she'd like to be with the prospect of Chris getting hurt, whether it's going to sleep with him not knowing if Hermes will break down in the night, or watching him leave the ship and facing the possibility that his hands could slip or his tether could come loose. It took her a long time to accept that they were both constantly in danger in space, but she _had_ accepted it; had steeled her heart just enough to ensure she could move on should the unthinkable happen to Chris.

That was in space, however. That was when there was still a lot of uncertainty between them; back when 'I love you' remained unsaid so that they could finally admit it back home, and the possibility of dying no longer had the power to frighten them.

She is not prepared to lose him here, on Earth where they are supposed to be safe. She's not sure she can handle it if she finds out that he is gone while she sits in a crowded waiting room, surrounded by screaming children and nervous families.

Mark is beside her and she's grateful for him. He's been a constant in their lives since their return to civilisation, after coming to stay with them in order to avoid sleeping in an empty house every night, and it was him who called her with uncharacteristic anxiety in his voice to tell her that Chris had been hit by a car.

He's quiet now, and it only serves to remind her that her world is crashing down while she waits for news, but she cannot blame him. She is silent herself, nails digging into her palms and her rapid heartbeat almost drowning out the chaos in the room.

There's not even anyone else she can blame. Perhaps that would be easier to deal with. But no; it was a random accident where the driver lost control of his car and was unable to stop it veering onto the sidewalk. She hasn't seen him yet – assumes he's being seen to by doctors as well – but she knows he was the one who called the ambulance and used what little control of the car he had to slam on the brakes, and no matter how much she (albeit irrationally) wants to, she cannot blame him.

She can't even blame herself. Chris wasn't coming home for a date or because she'd asked him to or because she was ill and needed him there. It was just an ordinary day and he was coming home from work like he always did.

There it is again, the reminder that they should feel safe on Earth. Perhaps that is naïve of her; the assumption that if they could survive the perils of space then nothing at home can touch them.

She feels Mark squeeze her hand lightly and it breaks her free from her funk. She turns to him and is only now aware that she has been holding her breath, and his red-rimmed eyes make her own sting furiously. He gives her a small smile and she returns it, knowing it won't fool him, and she makes no attempt to wipe away the tear that slides down her cheek. Most people in the room are scared or crying themselves; she will not be noticed.

"He'll be okay, you know," Mark says, voice as upbeat as he can possibly make it, and as usual he has the power to make her believe him. "If Mars didn't bring him down then a crappy car certainly isn't going to."

She laughs despite herself and lets her head rest on Mark's shoulder before her laughter can turn into ugly sobs. She's exhausted and though she's paid little attention to the time, she knows she must have been sitting here for hours. Hours in which Chris has been in surgery, and the continued lack of news is destroying her, but so long as the doctors are taking their time to fix him (so long as there's something left to fix) she'll forgive them the wait. She feels Mark wrap an arm around her and squeeze her arm comfortingly, and it's almost reassuring enough to provide a distraction.

She doesn't know how much time passes before a young doctor approaches them; her expression tired but her smile telling them everything they need to know. Beth tries to take in the details of the surgery but all she hears is what she needs to; that it was a success, he's going to recover, she can see him now.

She thanks the doctor profusely and it takes all of her willpower not to pull her in for a hug, and she turns to find Mark grinning too – his eyes still wet but his relief palpable. He hugs her before telling her to go to Chris while he calls everyone else with the good news, says he'll join her in a minute, and it's all she needs to hear before she's following the doctor along spotless corridors.

It's only now that she listens to what she's being told and her heart sinks again at descriptions of broken ribs and haemorrhaging that had required removal of his spleen, and her brain shatters her relief to fill her head with images of Chris strapped to wires with tubes down his throat. It's only when she's led into his ward that the reality is able to comfort her.

Any horrific images in her head melt away at the sight of him sleeping among white sheets, attached only to a pulse monitor and an IV which is feeding him blood to replace what he's lost. He's wearing a nasal cannula, but otherwise he seems to be breathing fine on his own, and if she ignores the bandages around his abdomen she can almost pretend that he's simply asleep.

After assuring the doctor that she'll be okay, she sits on the chair at his bedside and takes his hand in hers. In the sudden quiet, she starts tracing light circles on his hand – both to distract herself and to bring her back to those endless days in space, when they were still figuring out how they felt about each other. It's a familiarity that comforts her, and she lets the soft sounds of his breathing and the beeping of his heart monitor calm her frantic mind. The past few hours have been exhausting, but it was worth enduring the wait to see him again, to have this reassurance that he's going to be okay.

She can tell when he's coming to by the low whine he makes in his throat, but any worries that he's in pain dissipate when he notices her and gives her a bright smile she knows must be morphine-induced. "Hey..." he manages eventually, and his eyebrows furrow at hearing his own slurred speech in a way that makes her giggle.

"Hey yourself," she says, smiling like she hadn't just spent the last few hours crying over him. She reaches over to stroke his hair and his eyes close as he leans into her hand like a touch-starved kitten. "How are you feeling?"

"Sore," he moans, as if he was stuck in bed with the cold rather than in hospital having just been bleeding internally. He looks over himself, lingering on the IV in his arm in a way that makes her fear that he'll try to pull it out, but even high on morphine he seems to have the sense not to do that. He turns his head to look at her again and seems confused when that action takes longer than it should. "'m I in a hospital?"

She nods, and tries to ignore how her throat suddenly feels tight. "Yeah. Someone ran into you when you were walking home, lost control of their car. You needed a little fixing up." She doesn't mention how the waiting for him to get fixed had frightened her completely and that she now knows that she can never face losing him. She doesn't think he'd understand even if she did.

It seems to take a while for her words to sink in, but when they do Chris relaxes a little and leans back against the pillow. "I remember now... anyone else get hurt?"

The prospect of that appears to worry him so much that she's quick to reassure him that no, it was just him, the driver's okay too. Her heart aches a little at how his immediate reaction had been to worry about others rather than himself, and she can feel her eyes burn again but she refuses to show him tears. She can only imagine how that will worry him further, and he needs to rest.

He stays silent for a little while after that, eyes unfocussed as if he'd happily drift off, and she resumes tracing circles on his hand in a way that is probably more for her comfort than his. She only pauses when he speaks up again. "You are so beautiful, you know that?"

She laughs, a proper laugh that surprises her, and she thinks it's what she's needed all night. "I think that's the morphine talking, Chris."

"Nope!" he says defiantly – as defiantly as one can in his state anyway – and it has her smiling again in a way that lets her forget just how hellish the start of this night had been. "'s all me."

She doesn't miss the way his eyes are fluttering, and though a selfish part of her wants him to stay awake and reassure her that he's safe and alive, she knows he needs to rest. He'll need to spend a lot of time resting and he's going to hate it (and with Mark in the house his recovery will certainly be interesting), but so long as it gets him back in one piece she'll endure all of his complaining. She isn't going to lose him tonight, but she spent a lot of time thinking she was going to, and she knows she isn't going to take her time with him for granted anymore.

She leans forward to press a light kiss to his forehead and whispers "I love you. Get some sleep," and it seems to be the cue he's been waiting for, as he sleepily mumbles something that might be 'I love you too' before his eyes slip shut and his breathing evens out.

Drained herself, and feeling the sheer relief at the fact that Chris is okay truly sink in for the first time since she saw the doctor approach, Beth begins to drift off as well, her hand still wrapped around his to ensure herself that he's still there.

Neither of them manage to get much in the way of sleep before Mark waltzes in with the biggest 'Get Well Soon' card and teddy bear he could find in the hospital shop, but she's far too happy to bother yelling at him for it and it's worth it to see both Mark and Chris grin stupidly at the sight of each other.

They'll get through this; she knows that now. They survived Mars after all.


End file.
